


A Little Bit

by xxFeuerFrei



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ballet, Bun!jolras, Healthy Relationships, M/M, Marjolras, Pining, blowjobs in the costume closet, grumpy!taire, i am sorry about this, lots of starbucks plugging, mommy!ferre, so much pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-19
Updated: 2015-06-06
Packaged: 2017-12-29 21:03:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 14,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1010073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxFeuerFrei/pseuds/xxFeuerFrei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being the new choreographer of the Musain Ballet Company is more stressful than Marius had ever anticipated. He considers it a successful day if Bossuet doesn’t bruise Joly too badly, Courfeyrac doesn’t sneak away with Jehan into the costume closet (more than once) and Grantaire is in the studio by noon. There is one very lovely perk, however. A particular blond principal dancer, with his ridiculous love of hazelnut macchiatos and Imogen Heap, has become much more to him than a colleague.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Finest Thing

There was something to be said for the vibrance of Paris. The streets smelled of espresso, fresh baked bread and the exhaust of motorcycles. Marius, with his duffel bag secured over his shoulder, was closely following the directions of slanted scrawl on a shred of moleskin. After studying ballet theory and choreography in London, Marius was undeterred by the rain. He had recently been hired to be the lead choreographer of the Musain Ballet Company, and as he nervously made his way through the city with a hazelnut macchiato in hand, he began to wonder what his first day would entail. He had recently studied as much as he could about the Musain, but there was so much ambiguity. The company was famous for its interesting use of androgynous dancers, and having the youngest principals in all of Paris. Anyone who had been to a performance recognized the highly talented cast, but was a touch concerned about the ballets forward thinking decisions. 

Marius stopped abruptly, taking in the stark contrast of black marble against white brick. There was obviously nothing traditional about the building. After fiddling around with security for just over a half hour, he finally made his way into the studio. 

In the corner, a practically unabashed brunette seemed to be getting fitted. There was an indecent tape measure making its way up his inner thigh, but he still continued to chat with a stretching blond. The pair seemed so distant from this reality, only interested in the air trapped between themselves. Marius felt like an intruder staring at them, so he averted his gaze just in time to notice a bespectacled male stepping into his space. 

"Marius, right?" He had an essence of paternal love, he smell of old books and a well-worn smile. "I hope it wasn't too hard finding the place. I'm Combeferre, the artistic director." He offered his hand, and Marius took it gratefully. 

"It was fine," his gaze shifted to the door as another duo walked in. "It was a bit hard getting passed security but besides that," his voice trailed off. The space was quickly becoming more occupied with dancers and their first coffee of the day. 

"Would you care for a tour?" Combeferre dutifully interrupted his spiraling train of thought. "I would introduce you to everyone, but we're still missing a few. Grantaire probably won't be in until much later." An octave was dropped when the name fell from his lips. 

The space was superb. 

The costume department was quaint but beautifully draped with fabrics from floor to ceiling. There was a dusting of shimmer on the counter, remnants of whatever project had taken residence there before. 

As they passed the box office, Marius noticed an advertisement for Duo Concertant and wondered if that would be the project he worked on first. 

The theatre was decadent. A small gallery was cloaked in red velvets and dark suedes. As they crossed the stage, Marius felt an overwhelming sense of anxiety. How he had been selected for such a lavish production was beyond him. 

By the time they were finished and returned to the studio, a sea of expectant faces awaited them. The brunette from earlier, with his fingers laced with the shorter boy's, seemed to be the most eager. He practically bounced on his heels as he padded over, introducing himself as Courfeyrac, and his partner as the soft spoken Jehan. The next few minutes passed quickly with introductions. The second pair of dancers announced themselves as Joly and Bossuet, and from the way their hands brushed as they walked in step, Marius drew a few conclusions. The group erupted in laughter when Joly had to catch Bossuet after he tried to balance his weight on the barre and slipped. There was nothing particularly elegant about the duo. 

The next was Bahorel, with his dark features and impressive height. His handshake was strong. His lips curled into a smile as he welcomed Marius into the group, and wished him luck. Feuilly, a set designer, was ushered forward. He had harsh calluses but spoke of his work in the highest regard. He looked miniature next to Bahorel. 

After minutes of chatting, Marius' apprehension began to fade. Until the door busted open, of course. In entered another pair, one clad in a green sweatshirt and Doc Martens, the other much more delicate in an oversized grey woolen coat and pastel rain boots. Their bickering did not subside once they entered the studio. The blond, with his hair neatly pulled into a bun, tugged his scarf free from his neck. "It's already nine," he sounded, a spike of anger in his tone. They both carried Starbucks with the same name scribbled on the side. "It's only nine," the other grinned, kicking his boots off. "And I don't really appreciate you waiting outside of my flat." The petite dancer, Marius would later come to know as Enjolras, neatly folded his coat and placed his shoes aside. He was now scrubbing his hands over his face, and the plunging tank top he was sporting was almost indecent. "We open in three weeks, Grantaire." 

After much calming by Combeferre, the ruffled Enjolras conceded to allowing his anger to fester and went over to introduce himself to the new choreographer. Trying for a small smile, the principal dancer stood elegantly before Marius. "I'm sorry about that," he tried in way of explanation. "I suppose it's just nerves," that he entirely blamed on Grantaire. He pressed a kiss to each of the freckled male's cheeks, although he had to shift to his toes to do so. "Welcome. I'm Enjolras, and that over there is Grantaire." 

Marius assumed these were the principals from the way their presence commanded attention from the others. They were both petite for dancers, but he supposed they complimented each other. Enjolras, with his soft features, bright lips and shining hair, looked the perfect part of a ballerina, albeit his gender.

Clearing his throat, the young Pontmercy stammered through a swift introduction. "It's going to be a pleasure to work with you all," he added, nervous lip biting evolving into a shy smile. "I suppose we should get to it then?" 

Since it was in fact his first day, and this company seemed to be more hectic than most, Combeferre suggested the new choreographer take a day to learn the space and the dancers. He started observing Jehan and Courfeyrac, who were the first to begin rehearsal. The way Courfeyrac kept his hand on Jehan's hip, the touch featherlight and soft, was endearing. His eyes never left Jehan's. The two danced as though gravity wasn't relevant. Marius had never seen such a beautiful display and was crushed when he learned the routine wasn't to be performed. 

Because he wasn't supposed to be assisting quite yet, he stayed away from Joly and Bossuet. The former was busy avoiding the missteps of his partner, but a smile was ever-present on his lips. It seemed Bossuet was only holding Joly back, but he didn't seem to mind. The fondness and familiarity was tangible. 

Enjolras sat on the floor, lacing his shoes. His golden curls began to fall loose from his bun and framed his face. He seemed significantly less riled than before. Marius placed himself in front of the other, legs crossed, "May I?" Drawn from his thoughts, the blond's eyes focused. His smile was intoxicating. "If you insist." They sat in comfortable silence as Marius finished one shoe and moved onto the next. He tried not to think about Enjolras' slender ankles and soft wrists. 

Enjolras hummed, perching his chin on his knee, "Are you new to the city?" His fingertips brushed over the ribbon marking his calves. Looking forward, Marius simply shrugged his shoulders, "Sort of. I grew up in Montreuil, but I went to university in London." The dancer quickly checked the validity of the fit before shifting to stand. "Where are you staying?" 

The pair chatted about the most superficial of topics. Enjolras listed his favourite places to get coffee while Marius discussed his grievances with his neighbors. As Enjolras stretched on the barre, the redhead felt as though he should be doing something more productive than intruding on their principal. Just before he was about to excuse himself, Enjolras turned on his heels. 

"If you'll excuse me, I have to find my drunkard." The blond ducked his head before scurrying off. Marius waved although his back was turned and watched him exit the studio. He supposed it was presumptuous to think Enjolras would have liked to practice with him. They did have a show to prepare for, after all. 

The day came and went with little excitement. Marius busied himself with mundane tasks. He introduced himself to the rest of Feuilly's crew, familiarized himself with the building's amenities and secured a score of Duo Concertant. He decided he would spend the evening working on the highlights of the show, maybe in one of the coffee houses Enjolras had suggested.

He let himself back into the studio before pausing in his tracks. Grantaire had Enjolras lifted over his head, hands splayed at the small of his back. The dark haired male lowered him tight to his chest, taking a step forward and leaning Enjolras back, who allowed himself to be pliable in his hands. They made the following pas couru, supported pirouette and cabriole look like second nature. 

When they broke apart, Enjolras and Grantaire stood as strangers. The blond crossed the room to his bag before retrieving his towel. "Tomorrow, then?" With a curt nod, Grantaire was out with a cigarette hanging off his lip. 

Enjolras shifted to the floor, looking towards Marius."Well?" He stretched his legs forward while a cheeky grin curled onto his lips. The redhead laughed, walking to his side before collapsing in front of him. "You dance beautifully." Enjolras laid back against the floor, exhaling. "Thank you." 

Marius went to carefully freeing Enjolras of the ribbon. There was something oddly intimate about the act, but the blond didn't seem to mind.


	2. Although That Sounds Dumb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pontmercying intensifies.

The next morning came with no less anxiety. After a quick shower, Marius was shoving sketches into his messenger bag before taking a detour to search for his shoes. He would definitely need to make a quick Starbucks stop, since the early morning hours were still new to him. With no discouraging rain, Marius headed out the door humming. He spent the walk to the studio with his head in his score book and generously sipping a salted carmel mocha. 

Arriving a half hour early, Marius had expected the studio to be empty, but the echoes of pointe shoes against wood welcomed him. Enjolras turned on his heels before leaning his weight against the barre, "Marius." The name sounded fond on his lips. 

The redhead cleared his throat, letting his bag drop to the floor, "Good morning." There was an uncomfortable lag in the conversation, filled simply with Enjolras continuing to stretch. 

The quiet of the studio was interrupted by the laughter of Courfeyrac and Jehan. The pair had their fingers laced together, and the sweetest of smiles on their lips. The brunette bounded forward as he shed his outer layer of clothing. "We get you today, right?" 

Courfeyrac had more energy than anyone could match. 

With Marius leading the pair through the choreography, it seemed Jehan learned the steps so naturally. He was able to crisply mold his partner's enthusiasm. However, when Marius stepped in to show Courfeyrac how to perform the piece with _adage_ , the brunette quickly trotted off into a waltz, leading Marius by his waist. 

"We've never danced before," he offered in way of explanation. The choreographer quickly fell into pace, recognizing the pas de deux. "This is lovely," Marius interrupted, noticing how amused Jehan looked as he observed them, "But you're learning Duo Concertant, not Coppelia." 

"Think of it as a warm-up, Pontmercy." His hands shifted from hips to the small of his back, supporting the next pirouette. It was only a shade awkward since Marius was a bit too tall to be lead by Courfeyrac. The brunette was surprisingly light on his feet as he finished the piece. 

Grantaire, stepping back into the studio from a smoke break, cleared his throat, "Let the poor kid down, Courf. It's only his second day, you don't have to be trying to get into his pants already." Courfeyrac gracefully stepped back, face pulled into an indigent scowl, "I was just being friendly. Christ." He immediately crossed the room to stand pointedly at Jehan's side, a hand rubbing soothing circles into the blond's shoulder. Jehan dismissed him with a wave of his hand, "You know I don't listen to Grantaire." Marius was too new to ask what exactly was going on there. He had an idea, from the way Courfeyrac's head dipped as he pressed a kiss to the side of Jehan's neck, but he would never have the confidence to voice his curiosity. 

Meandering past the trio, Grantaire interrupted Enjolras' stretching to begin their own practice. Marius was surprised by how the blond's shoulders had so immediately tensed. They danced beautifully, but interacted painfully. 

"We're ready, Monsieur Marius." Jehan's voice abruptly brought him from his thoughts. The rest of the rehearsal went more smoothly. Courfeyrac was no longer entirely distracting, content to just steal well-timed kisses from Jehan. Marius had to admit it was a bit cute. 

When they were changing back into civilian clothes, Courfeyrac rather emphatically invited Marius for drinks after work. The redhead agreed, happy to be well assimilating into the group. He was only slightly disappointed that Enjolras immediately slid into his adorably oversized coat, exhaled a chaste goodbye and headed home. 

The pub was only a few blocks away, just enough time for Bahorel and Grantaire to inhale a quick cigarette. Courfeyrac walked with an arm around Jehan's shoulders, and the blond looked particularly pleased with the contact. Marius walked three paces behind. Feuilly, silding up to his side, cracked a smile, "Enjolras doesn't usually come with us." Had it been that obvious? "Don't let Courf keep you out too late, yeah?" 

He had never see so few people ingest so much greasy food. Courfeyrac, with a beer in hand and half a cheeseburger in his mouth, hummed, "Pontmercy." He took a sip, "You're pretty quiet. Are we boring you?" 

"Give him a break," Grantaire breathed out, situated contentedly between Feuilly and Bahorel. "He's not used to having to be up at six yet." Bahorel snickered, "Neither are you." This earned a shove from the short principal. Letting his wine glass rest on the table, Grantaire puffed his chest, "I am purposely late so Enjolras has time to throw a tantrum." 

Jehan cleared his throat, "R." 

Marius, eyes flickering from Grantaire to Jehan, was utterly lost. They seemed to like Enjolras well enough in the studio, but he supposed his absence spoke for itself. "Ignore them," Jehan interrupted, "Grantaire is just rude. Enjolras enjoys a good book more than a good beer. As does Combeferre."

The weight of Jehan's comment hadn't bothered Marius until he was face first his pillow trying to sleep. The inseparable Enjolras and Combeferre were intimate enough to be together. The thought of the pair curled around each other with hot chocolate and dull manifestos in hand made something twist in his stomach. With the nagging thought making him restless, Marius drifted to sleep only three hours before his alarm chimed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short and pointless chapter. I am so terribly sorry.


	3. Look How They Shine For You

The first week had taken quite a toll on Marius. His muscles ached, his wallet was burning from his newly found caffeine dependency and he was positive that he spent more time in his shower than his bed. Courfeyrac was continuing inviting him for after work drinks, but his desire for sleep was usually the deciding factor. He was positive the brunette was in a permanent state of hysteria and his energy was always a second wind. 

After a particularly tiring Thursday of working with Joly and Bossuet, which was a true test of his patience, he noticed Enjolras was hovering by the door. The blond's decision to sport thigh highs over his stockings was much appreciated. Enjolras' entire body responded to the Marius crossing the room to his side, from the faint smile curled onto his lips to the straightened posture. "Hi." Marius shifted his messenger bag to his shoulder, "Hi." He dipped his head, "Are you heading home?" Enjolras finished buttoning his jacket, "No, actually. I was going to eat." On Combeferre's suggestion. "Are you busy?" Marius was only busy in the context that it was past nine and he had work in the morning. "No," he breathed out, sliding his scarf around his neck, "What did you have in mind?" 

What he had in mind was a crêperie. It was only a few blocks from the company and rather quaint, filled with only a handful of tables. They sat tucked back in the corner, and Enjolras lost half of his size with his coat off his shoulders. He seemed much more petite out of the context of Grantaire's similar stature.

"So do you like it?" Enjolras piped, warming his hands around a cup that was decidedly only a quarter actual coffee. Marius grinned, "Yeah, I guess it's nice. It's warm." He didn't exactly have high standards. This caused Enjolras to laugh; a smile warmed all of his features as his eyes crinkled in the corners. "I didn't mean the restaurant." He raised his cup to his lips, "Working with us, do you like it?" Marius let out a nervous puff of laughter as he rubbed at the back of his neck. "I really do. I was a little intimidated at first," he still was, "but I feel like I'm getting less disapproving glances from Bahorel." The conversation halted as crêpes were placed in front of them. Enjolras had a sweet tooth, noted. 

"I'm glad," The blond mused after a few bites of pastry, "I was worried we might scare you off." 

Marius decided this was the best time to unceremoniously gulp down his hot chocolate. What exactly was he supposed to say? Their only previous communication had been stage directions and small encouragements. 

Until Enjolras asked about what Marius liked to read. The topic was innocuous enough, even easily perceived as boring, but it blossomed into warm smiles and healthy debate. The pair shared a similar taste in literature, excluding their favourite writers of the French Revolution in which they drastically differed, and decided that they just had to suggest titles for the other. 

Enjolras had an opinion on everyone. He was surprisingly well read, and beautifully eloquent when he spoke. Marius was finding himself just nodding along, and scoffing when Enjolras lost himself in his liberal agenda. 

Time seemed to tic by without them, and soon they were being ushered out of the cafe. 

"Can I walk you home?" Marius piped as he checked his mobile, "It's late." 

"Courfeyrac said you live near the studio." Enjolras started, eyelashes still downcast as he stirred his drink in his to-go cup. 

Marius licked at his lips before continuing, "Well, yeah. I didn't have any other frame of reference. It's not like I have family in the city or anything, so might as well live near work." He shrugged his shoulders, "Don't you?" 

"Oh, no." He exhaled, "I live with Combeferre. We're about nine stops away on the metro." 

The redhead's brow furrowed, "Why? If you both work together…" 

Enjolras laughed, "Combeferre worked part time at a used bookstore when we were in university. Well, actually, he spent so much time there that the old man used to leave him alone in the shop. When he passed, he didn't have any children, so he left the shop to Ferre. We live in the apartment above it now. It's… Inconvenient and convenient at the same time." 

So they did live together. 

"I really should be getting you home." Piped Marius again reluctantly, mostly to convince himself, "It's almost twelve." Enjolras thought for a moment as he fiddled with his scarf, "All right then. I'll see you tomorrow." Shifting to his toes, the blond pressed a chaste kiss to Marius' cheek and headed off in the other direction. 

Marius watched until he was out of sight.


	4. Let Me Sing You to Sleep

Everyone turned to the cringe worthy sound of tailbone hitting wood. 

"You did that on purpose!" 

Having used his palms to soften the blow, Enjolras was sitting with one leg extended and the other pulled painfully toward himself. His cheeks were burning from embarrassment but he made no move to get up. 

"No, I didn't," Grantaire scoffed, offering a hand down to the bundle of wounded pride that was Enjolras, "You just slipped. It happens." The blond shoved his hand away before pulling both of his knees to his chest. 

After the initial shock of the incident faded, the other dancers began circling around them. Combeferre gently curled an arm around Enjolras' shoulders, and pushed the other under his knees to support him. He gracefully held Enjolras in his arms as he carried him over to one of the benches. 

Courfeyrac sent a worried glance towards Grantaire, "You didn't actually, did you?" The brunette puffed his chest, "Are you kidding me? No. He just--" Both their gazes shifted to Combeferre trying to extend Enjolras' leg while the other winced. "He didn't hit his mark, and I went to vault him." 

Marius hurriedly crossed the room to Enjolras' side. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, "Can I get you anything?" Combeferre looked over his shoulder, "An icepack and a water bottle from the fridge, please." 

Enjolras, now being unceremoniously removed from his pointe shoes, exhaled a shaking breath, "Ferre, I'm fine." The bespectacled male sighed heavily through his nose, "You bruised your ankle and hit your tailbone pretty hard. You're taking the rest of the day off." 

Jehan placed himself next to Enjolras on the bench, "Are you all right?" He gently pushed a loose strand of blond back behind Enjolras' ear, "He's sorry, you know. Even if he doesn't say it." 

Shooting a discouraged look in Jehan's direction, the principal dancer huffed, "He could never be bothered to apologize, could he?" Enjolras stood, heavily favoring his left leg, "I'm just going to be a distraction for the rest of the day, so I suppose I'll go home." Jehan sidled up to his side for balance. 

"I'll go with you," Combeferre added with a reassuring smile, "Someone has to make sure you stay in bed." 

Enjolras shook his head, "No, you could still be helpful here. I'll be fine, I'll even take the bus to the metro." 

Returning with the water bottle and icepack, Marius rejoined the conversation, "I can take him." Oh god, he hoped that wasn't too forward. "Well, since I was supposed to work with Enjolras and Grantaire today, I just thought--" 

Looking between the volatile Enjolras and stammering Marius, Combeferre let out a puff of laughter, "All right."


	5. If You Close Your Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Chinese takeout and The Fellowship is the Ring is perfect intimacy.

Marius had initially felt overqualified for the minuscule task of safely getting a sufficiently cranky Enjolras back to his flat. That fleeting notion was quickly diminished when Enjolras insisted on giving up his seat for an older woman on the bus, wondering into a cafe for a "quick" coffee (which turned into a twenty minute ordeal when he asked the barista to remake his drink with soy milk from the fridge) and the five block walk from the bus stop to the front door was when Marius really started to notice how swollen Enjolras' ankle was becoming. 

After decidedly not getting distracted while meandering through Combeferre's pseudo-inherited book shop, the pair were finally ascending the stairs. Marius sent Courf a quick text to let the other dancer know they had successfully reached their flat. 

Which was surprisingly disorganized. Having known the pair for a few weeks now, Marius had expected spartan white walls and primary coloured bauhaus furniture. Instead, the freckled male was greeted with the piles of leather bound books, the lingering scent of hazelnut, warm apricot coloured walls and well-loved maghony furniture.

"Thank you for walking with me," Enjolras piped while stepping out of his boots, "Even if it was a waste of metro fare." He unceremoniously dropped his coat to the floor, "I think I'm going to lay down, it actually hurts quite a bit now." Enjolras had previously been using his annoyance towards Grantaire as a natural painkiller. 

"Oh, uhm," Marius shifted his weight around, "You don't want me to stay?" 

In a moment of clarity, he pulled the sticky note covered with Combeferre's scrawl from his pocket. The bestpecatled male had promised it would have everything he needed to know. He quickly red the first two checks on a list of three before Enjolras retired to his bedroom. 

"We could order Chinese and watch The Lord of the Rings, since I took the day off too." 

And that's how Marius somehow managed to find himself sitting in bed with Enjolras and watching The Fellowship of the Ring with a bowl of fried rice in his lap. 

It seemed only logical, of course. If the pair sat on the couch in the living room, Enjolras wouldn't have anywhere to elevate his ankle. In bed, it was comfortably sitting atop a mound of pillows. That didn't make it any less embarrassing for the young booby. 

Although, none of this seemed to phase Enjolras as he ate another bite of rice. 

Marius noted how different Enjolras looked in civilian clothes. Instead of his usual tight tank top and tights, the dancer looked comfortable in an oversized teeshirt of Combeferre's and pastel sweats. His hair was messily falling over his shoulder, as opposed to his typical neat bun. 

"What?" Enjolras asked with his brow furrowed. It seemed Marius had been staring. 

"Nothing, I guess I just never noticed how long your hair is," he piped innocently before shoving a too large piece of broccoli into his mouth. 

"Oh," Enjolras seemed satisfied with that, since he turned towards the movie again. "It's for work." Marius, after choking down his food, tugged his lower lip between his teeth, "Really? Do they make you do that?" Enjolras leaned back into his pillows before absently breathing out, "Oh, no. I started growing it before I worked for the Musain." 

Letting the conversation drop was a huge mistake on Marius' part. The sound of Enjolras' voice was followed by an eternity of silence. Marius finally allowed himself to look towards the blond again when he heard his spoon clink against the bowl. 

Enjolras was laying with his face half in his pillow and his knees tucked to his chest. Judging the slow rise and fall of his chest, he was fast asleep. Marius gently picked up the dishes from the bed and padded into the kitchen. 

He could easily let himself out, but it would be a shame to have only watched the first half of the movie. Besides, he had one Combeferre approved check left. After washing and putting away the dishes, he reopened the door to the bedroom. Unsurprisingly, Enjolras had not moved an inch. Marius slowly shifted from the edge of the bed back to laying against the pillows. 

This was officially weird. 

This was officially weird and he was decidedly overstepping a handful of boundaries. He was laying next to his sleeping colleague, in a bed said colleague shared with his best friend, and watching the Lord of the Rings by himself. 

(Marius definitely wasn't noticing how soft Enjolras' features were while he slept. Nope.)

Just as the credits from the first installment of the trilogy began to roll, Marius felt himself dozing. 

And he woke to the smell of coffee. 

He jumped from the bed, feeling the tips of his ears colour scarlet. He really hadn't meant to fall asleep. It was just they both been out so late last night-- yes, midnight was late when you had to be at work by six.

"Oh, sorry," Enjolras exhaled from the doorway, carrying two mugs with him, "How do you take your coffee?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I take another long hiatus again, come poke at me over at cappugccino.tumblr.com~


	6. Please tell me you're the one

"You should call him," Courf interjected while tugging his sweatpants over his tights and onto his hips. Grantaire raised an eyebrow while searching his backpack for a pack of cigarettes, "Why?" He dragged his lower lip through his teeth, "If there was a problem don't you think Marius would have called Ferre?" 

"No doubt," Courf added, "But it would just be nice." He placed his hands on Grantaire's shoulders, "Please?" The dancer scoffed, "Christ, he screws up and accuses me of dropping him, and I have to be the nice one?" 

"Yeah, if you want me to pay for your burrito you do." 

The aforementioned pair were happily curled on the couch together. 

"You've really never seen Metropolis before?" Enjolras piped from over his mug. The blond was seated between Marius' outstretched legs, with his wounded ankle resting on the other's thigh. "How does that even happen." 

"Sorry we can't all be film snobs," the freckled male laughed, "And you've never seen American Psycho— so it's kind of the whole pot-kettle thing." 

Enjolras leaned back, resting his head against a pillow with a soft exhale, "It's not even close." 

Marius tentatively moved the icepack from Enjolras' ankle, "Is this feeling better at least?" It was finally starting to look a normal size again, and the bruising was pretty minimal after all. 

Placing his mug aside, Enjolras flexed his leg, "Mhm, I think I'll be able to dance on it tomorrow." He then dug into the pocket of his sweatpants to retrieve his vibrating mobile. “It’s Grantaire.” The tone and matching look were both equally disapproving. He answered with a tentative “Hello?” 

“How’s my grumpy dandelion feeling?” The dark haired male asked with his phone wedged between his cheek and his shoulder, using his hand to keep a spastic Courfeyrac at bay. 

“Better,” Enjolras exhaled while slipping from the couch to stand defiantly on his good ankle. “Anything else?” Courf managed to stick his face close enough to yell through the phone, “Is Marius still there?” Letting his gaze shift from the floor to the man in question, he grumbled a quiet, “Yes.” 

That seemed to satisfy the two, since the line went dead. 

“Everything okay? Marius grabbed the two empty mugs and walked them into the kitchen. “It sounds like they’re done for the day, so.” He let his voice trail off into thought. 

“So?” The blond trailed after him and hopped onto the counter, not yet tuned into the frequency of the internal monologue of the young Pontmercy. 

“So,” he began again, “I guess I should go? Since Combeferre will be home soon and all.” Enjolras dragged his lower lip through his teeth, supposing the other had in fact heard Courfeyrac’s question.

“Okay.” He wasn’t going to ask Marius to stay, he had already gone drastically beyond the societal standard of manners towards a colleague. Enjolras also thought back to Combeferre commenting on what an awful patient he made. 

Before long, Marius was stepping into his boots at the door, “I’ll see you tomorrow then? Don’t push yourself to come in if you can’t though.” 

Enjolras was begrudgingly leaning against the wall, waving the other male off, “Tomorrow.” 

He trudged back into bed, decidedly not pouting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if anyone is still reading this apologies for the lack of content in this chapter it's a bridge ;A;


	7. Surrounded by you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marius would bet Courf’s breath tasted of Jehan.

Marius made an effort to arrive early to the Musain. He knew Enjolras was typically the first to get there, and he was carrying an extra macchiato for the blond. He kept running over what he was going to say in his head. Knowing he had to play it casual, Marius recited the exact phrases he was going to use. Hi, how’s your ankle? I got you this, it’s really no big deal. 

When he opened the door, he was greeted with Grantaire’s laughter. That was so unusual in itself, he hardly noticed how close Combeferre was. He was assisting the principal dancer stretch, and maybe exchanging a few encouraging kisses. The redhead forgot to say hello. 

“He isn’t here yet,” Grantaire added with a click of his tongue. Had it been that obvious? Combeferre turned his head, “Good morning. I let him sleep in, since he never does.” He stood from the floor, “He’ll probably be here soon, though. It was nice of you to bring him coffee.” Marius wished he could put a word to Combeferre’s qualities that made him seem like the embodiment of chamomile tea. 

The next pair to bust through the doors was Courferyac and Jehan. Marius couldn’t help but watch them, the way they walked with no space between them, their cheeks both warmed with the intoxication of love. They were surrounded in each other. Jehan’s romanticism completed Courfeyrac’s abundance of cheer. The couple missed each other whenever their fingers weren’t linked or Jehan’s cold toes weren’t on the back of Courfeyrac’s legs. Marius would bet Courf’s breath tasted of Jehan. 

The redhead wondered if he would ever be as in love as those two were. He bet it was nice. Courfeyrac was undying in his loyalty and Jehan was as beautiful as anyone could be with his sharp cheekbones and plush lips. When they kissed, it’s as if the air around them stopped moving. Courfeyrac’s eyes beamed with a feeling of contentment because he had his soulmate at his side.

He supposed they were lots of different kinds of couples. Jehan and Courfeyrac were the kind that romantic novels wished they could invent. Bahorel and Feuilly were more likely to throw their dirty socks on each other and bicker about what kind of takeout to order. Joly and Bossuet and Musichetta were all comfortable with their independence yet texted each other constantly if they weren’t together. 

Marius wondered what kind of relationship he wanted to be in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short chapter just to get back into writing ;3;/


	8. A Very Disgruntled Dandelion

A very disgruntled dandelion stormed into the Musain around noon. He obviously skipped brushing his hair on the way out, because it was passed the point of hipster messy bun and more towards the bird’s nest end of the spectrum. He wore an oversized jumper which Combeferre recognized at his own and purple polka dot rain boots despite there being no rain. He topped off the disheveled look with a pair of ripped pastel pink tights; only Enjolras could make this look cute. 

Marius turned to the door and smiled. He felt his cheeks warm and his stomach turned, but not unpleasantly. The grumpy dancer made his way over, “Someone (not mentioning names) turned my alarm off.” Marius noted he still smelled like sleep. “Sorry.” 

Marius pushed his hand through his hair, “I got you a coffee this morning, but I’m sure it’s cold now. Sorry.” The look that pulled across the blonde’s face was unrecognizable to Marius. Maybe he thought it was daft that Marius was making sure he was getting credit for such a minor deed. Enjolras looked down at his feet before glancing quickly at the freckles dotting Marius’ upper lip. “Nothing,” he was now playing with the loose strands of hair framing his cheekbones, “I just like that you thought of me.” 

Marius then knew what kind of relationship he wanted to be in. He wanted every moment to be like this, with the other’s presence always new to him. With butterflies in his stomach and a blush on his cheeks, he wanted a relationship where he would fall more in love every moment. But he was definitely getting ahead of himself. 

When he couldn’t take anymore, Grantaire walked over to break up the two pathetically scuffing the ground. “Well, Ferre and I are going on our lunch break. Why don’t you take the time to catch up our little sleepy head here?” 

And so they did. Enjolras’ ankle seemed to be pretty much healed since he danced beautifully. He had to adjust for Marius’ height since he was many inches taller than Grantaire. They laughed when either of them missed a step and smiled whenever they landed the routine. Marius tried not to notice how close Enjolras’ face was to his. The shorter male similarly leaned back, and let out a nervous puff of laughter, as he went into his graceful allongé. Marius’ hands were making him much more nervous than Grantaire’s usually did. It was uniquely intimate with the redhead. 

“I think I’ve got it.” Enjolras added, absently shifting onto his toes. He glanced around, knowing everyone was still on their lunch break but still wanting to make sure. “I wanted to thank you. For yesterday.” Marius smiled as he settled down on the bench, “Don’t mention it.” The redhead grabbed the water bottle next to him, “It was nice.” 

Enjolras grabbed his bag off the floor, groping around for his mobile to check the time, “You should take your break now. Ferre can start with Courfeyrac and Jehan when they get back.” Marius looked up, “I know you just got here, but do you want to come with me? I was going around the corner to get a sandwich.” 

Enjolras and Marius walked together in step back to the Musain. They were both happily munching on sandwiches wrapped in cheap paper and sipping ridiculously warm hot chocolates. “Next Saturday night,” Enjolras started, “We’re all going to Jehan’s poetry reading. Do you want to come?” 

Marius grinned, “Yeah. I would love to.” 

It was almost a date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another shit chapter but hey guess what the next one has cute things happening


	9. Strawberry Blond Revolutionary

Marius had no idea what he was going to wear. He was sitting in the middle of his bed, half of his closet masking the duvet beneath him. He wasn’t sure how casual he was supposed to be. This was the first time he had been invited out with the troupe since his first day when they took him to obligatory greasy dinner. As he leaned back against his pillows, he remembered he had never seen Enjolras out of work clothes since he hadn’t gone that night. It made him nervous. 

He was much more in his element on the wood of the studio, where he could focus on perfecting his work instead of how socially awkward he was. To be a good choreographer meant paying attention to every minute detail and he lost himself in the art of it. Going to work everyday was like starting a new book— you made sure you didn’t miss anything by adoring every page. 

Eventually he settled on a pair of grey jeans and a tartan button down under an old blue sweater worn to lush softness. If he spent any more time worrying over this, he would start to sweat. As he nervously ran his fingers through his playfully mussed hair, he checked his back pocket for his mobile and wallet. He just had to be laid-back. He could do it. Probably. 

Enjolras had no idea what he was going to wear. He sank further into the bathtub, squeezing his eyes shut and blowing bubbles from of his nose. He loathed how nonchalantly Combeferre was shaving next to him. The taller male glanced over as Enjolras tried to drown himself in a tub of pink water, “I think you’re overthinking this.” Pulling the stopper from the drain, the blond groaned, “You’re one to talk. You and Grantaire are just as ridiculous.” Ferre rolled his eyes but couldn’t help but laugh, “Come on, Jehan will be cross if you don’t go.” 

The blond pulled himself out of the bath and wrapped a plush lavender towel around himself, “I wouldn’t miss it.” He padded across the bathroom and into the bedroom, leaving wet footprints in his wake. Laying back on the bed, he exhaled and wondered if Marius was struggling as much as he was. 

Enjolras didn’t have long to contemplate that as his train of thought was interrupted by loud banging on the door. He pulled on a peignoir and padded down the stairs while he tied his hair up. The shivering figure on the other side of the door was Grantaire, dressed casually in paint strained jeans and one of his numerous green sweatshirts. The beanie sitting on the back of his head completed the starving artist look. The dark haired male stomped out his cigarette on the concrete before entering, “Bold choice, Enj.” Self-consciously, Enjolras glanced down at his state of dress. He exhaled through his nose, deciding not to argue back since his stomach was already in knots, “Ferre is upstairs.” 

When it was time to leave, Enjolras quickly stepped into a faded pair of cherry red boots and trailed after the other two. He was cradling a hot chocolate while Combeferre and Grantaire were holding hands. Priorities. 

Marius could feel the the sweat drip down the back of his neck. The evening had passed in relative normalcy, poet after poet reading works dedicated to lost loves. One girl came very close to crying while reciting an ode to her dog that had passed and Marius was on the verge of tears as well. The coffee shop reading was just as Marius expected until Jehan took the stage. 

At first, Marius thought revolution was an allegory for something. He didn’t really think the petite strawberry blond was going to overthrow the government. That was, until Bahorel pounded his fist on the table and exhaled a mighty, “Vive l'avenir!” Marius tried to let his gaze shift nonchalantly to Enjolras who was practically beaming with pride as he looked at Prouvaire. He swallowed, realizing he was surrounded by anarchists. At least Jehan was a talented poet-anarchist. 

When Prouvaire made his way off the stage and promptly seated himself in Courferyac’s lap, all of the dancers cheered. Enjolras must have finished his latte since his hands traveled from the mug to his lap. He looked expectantly up at Marius with a small smile, “He’s good, isn’t he?” Marius nodded as he fiddled with a loose strand on the edge of his sleeve, “Yeah. Quite decisive.” If tomorrow Enjolras told him Prouvaire was setting fire to parliament, he would believe him. (At least Marius knew he would make sure the area was cleared of unsuspecting wildlife first.) The blond smiled before asking Marius if he wanted to split a slice of pumpkin pound cake. He was too cute to say no to.


	10. Hot Pink Tights

The redhead how no idea how he ended up on the floor of Courfeyrac and Jehan’s apartment, holding a glass of rosé. Enjolras was just to his left and leisurely snacking on bag of baby carrots. The music that drifted through the room was certainly more indicative of a german expressionist film than a casual gathering of friends. Dried flower petals littered the floor which apparently had something to do with a visual art performance piece protesting the exploitation of animals that Jehan was putting together. 

This lifestyle could be described best with the word artisan. By day, this group was graceful ballet dancers attracting the eyes of Parisian elites. However, at night, they were using their small amount of revere to garner support for their politically-charged side projects. Marius quickly learned that Combeferre wrote an anonymous column that reported on current social causes, Grantaire stayed out until the early hours of the morning creating caustic street art and Joly was working towards his MD with hopes of opening a clinic for underprivileged young and expectant mothers. He wondered where they got the energy. 

They were even impassioned about the relatively mundane! Currently, Feuilly and Bahorel were in a heated debate about the prospects of the new Star Wars film being watchable. Bahorel, a strong defender of the franchise even including the prequels, said that he was just happy to attend another Star Wars midnight release. Feuilly, on the other hand, was disgruntled that the project had been given to J.J., who had ruined the feminist undertones of the more forward thinking Star Trek universe and could only imagine what horrors would unfold in the already misogynistic galactic alliance. 

The blond took a sip from Marius’ glass. Why had he refused his own drink then? “You don’t have to stay, you know,” Enjolras brought Marius back to the present, “We just sit around and order pad thai.” Marius stretched his long legs under the cracked stained glass table, “No, I’m good. I feel a bit out of place, but I’m still having fun.” 

“This is pretty typical,” he popped another carrot into his mouth, “But I don’t smell any incense. I suppose Jehan is on his best behavior not scare you off.” Marius looked across the room to where the taller strawberry blond was placed in Courfeyrac’s lap. The two of them looked perfectly content just to breathe each other’s air. Every so often, Courf would press a kiss to his cheek to remind him of how proud he was of Jehan. It was so sweet. 

“If I was going to be scared off, I think I would have started running when Bahorel showed up in his hot pink tights.” Marius cracked a shy smile when Enjolras began to laugh heartily. “I’m glad you’re here to stay then.” He offered Marius a carrot, despite smacking Courferyac when he tried to filch one earlier. 

The thai food arrived and it took Feuilly, Bahorel and Grantaire to carry the bags into the kitchen. Enjolras still did not move from his seat. Soon enough, Combeferre was placing a hot plate of food into the blond’s outstretched hands. Marius would have been worried they were dating if Ferre wasn’t so obviously interested in the other principal dancer. 

Marius meandered his way into the kitchen and ignored Courfeyrac as he tried to get him to catch a dumpling in his mouth. The air was warm with a calming sense of belonging. Everyone around him was completely comfortable being in their own skin and not despite their imperfections-- but because of them. Marius thought the chipped tooth added to Bahorel’s smile, Bossuet’s bald head made him look that much better in the knit hat Joly made for him and Jehan’s wild hair added to his flower child aura. Marius wasn’t even secure about the freckles that soiled across the bridge of his nose and his upper lip. 

When Marius came back into the living room with a plate of food, everyone was happily digging into their late night dinner and someone had turned on a movie. He absently registered that the screen was definitely occupied by the painted red face of Ron Perlman and they were definitely watching Hellboy (maybe Hellyboy 2). And a bottle of whiskey was being passed around. 

At least Marius knew none of them had work in the morning.


	11. Sated

Marius wasn’t quite sure when he fell asleep but he certainly was aware of himself when he woke up. As his eyes adjusted to the lack of light he noticed his head was laying in someone’s lap. He felt his cheeks colour. He couldn’t believe he was this close to Enjolras and that he smelled so sweet. The hand that was pushing through the short tuffs of hair on the back of his neck was utterly soothing. He didn’t take his time lifting his head.

“Marius, libeling, do you wanna be the little spoon?” And, it _was_ too good to be true.

The redhead immediately rolled out of Courfeyrac’s lap, “Jesus christ! How long was I asleep?” He dug his mobile out of his back pocket while Courf began to tug on his sleeve, “Hey, I didn’t mean you had to get up!” The numbers across the screen shocked him. Marius had no idea how much he had slept, but it was now just before four in the morning.

The room was much more sated. Marius looked back on the couch to see Bahorel who was decidedly snoring with an equally unconscious Feuilly curled up on his chest. He could hear some chatter from the kitchen and assumed it was Combeferre and Grantaire. Jehan was curled up in a hideous quilt in the corner of the room with a sketchbook on his lap and charcoal staining his fingers. Joly, Bossuet and a certain Enjolras were missing.

“He went home,” Courfeyrac breathed out and flashed a sympathetic smile, “Ferre is staying at Grantaire’s tonight so he wanted to catch the last bus home. Sorry.”

Marius stretched his legs and stood up from the carpet, “I guess I should get going too then. I can’t believe I fell asleep on you like that.” The brunette started to follow but flopped back on the floor, “My legs are asleep… But I wanted to hug you goodbye.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fuck bears


	12. Accidental Afternoon Tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Courfeyrac may have saved the day.

Marius woke just past noon the next morning. Considering he didn’t make it back to his flat until well past four, he supposed it could have be worse. He thankfully hadn’t drank enough to have a hangover. He pulled his boxers on and waddled out into his kitchen. A cursory glance in his fridge caused him to sigh as he noted he was completely out of milk. His stomach was a little upset from the ridiculous amount of Doritos he ingested the night before, and he didn’t think he could handle anything besides cereal. 

A quick shower left him feeling like a person again. He checked his mobile as he lazily brushed his teeth, noting four texts from Courfeyrac but not bothering to open them. He shimmied into a pair of jeans, which was a struggle considering his legs were still damp, and went on searching for a clean shirt. As he wrapped a scarf around his neck to help brace the cold and threw his laptop bag over his shoulder, he wondered if Enjolras got home all right. He tried not to think about that, or what Combeferre and Grantaire had gotten up to either. 

A brisk walk through the chilled Parisian air helped Marius to clear his head. The entire company had off for the weekend which meant he wouldn’t see Enjolras until Monday. He found it ironic after all this time he still didn’t have the blond’s mobile number. He noted to ask for professional reasons next time they met. 

He stepped into a warm local tea room, operated by a single female proprietor who had ruddy cheeks and smelled of steeping rooibos. She always had a selection of homemade cakes on the counter and the business sense to offer customers free wifi. Marius couldn’t ask for more, and internally thanked Courf for pointing this place out to him his first week here. He should really text him back. 

As Marius was internally drooling over the possibility of a vegan treacle tart or maybe even a warm apple crumble with custard, he caught a glimpse of pink from his peripheral vision. When he inclined his head he was shocked to see Enjolras. Always adorably ruffled, the blond had his hair in a loose top bun with a few wisps escaping to frame his cheekbones. He wore an extremely warm looking oversized pink jumper, that’s cable knit pattern never came close to his frame. This made his absurdly long legs look even slimmer in grey velvet trousers. They were so well cut they could have been painted on. 

Marius must have been staring for longer than he realised since the other dancer noticed his attention and looked up. His face brightened as if he was actually waiting for Marius to join him. The redhead must have been imagining it. Was it proper to even infringe on Enjolras’ day off? He could easily sit on the other side of the cafe and not distract the other from his reading. 

It looked like Enjolras had made the decision for him. He set his hardback down and began to redistribute his plate and mug to one side of the table. God, it was almost like an accidental date. 

Turning back to the woman behind the counter, Marius quickly ordered a pot of earl grey and one of the dark chocolate banana muffins coming out of the oven. He made his way over to the table, trying to seem casual. He was obviously failing as he almost tripped over his own feet. Luckily, Enjolras was too absorbed in his fruit parfait to notice. 

“Good morning,” the shorter male greeted him before glancing quickly out the window, “Or maybe good afternoon by now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is anyone still reading this? I'm sorry I update basically never...


	13. Featherlight

“I’m sorry I left you there last night,” Enjolras started as Marius broke off a piece of his muffin. “You looked comfortable though.” The cheeky grin curled across the blond’s impossibly pink lips made Marius exhale a puff of laughter, “I think Courf was enjoying it more than I was.” He tried to ignore the way Enjolras’ eyes flickered up to his lips. “It was late, I’m just glad you got back safe.” 

Enjolras took a sip of his latte, “Did you have fun though? Everyone was really glad you came along.” So he had already reflected on last night with some of the others. Marius began explaining that they were the most lively bunch of friends he had ever met. He made Enjolras laugh by telling him funny quirks he was starting to pick up on. Like how Jehan was most definitely an elven prince and only choosing a mortal life to be near Courfeyrac. The freckled dancer had always been intimidated by Bahorel until he saw how red he went when Grantaire teased him and how gently his fingertips framed a cigarette. He was definitely a gentle giant. 

Enjolras encouraged the conversation by adding tidbits of ridiculous antics Joly and Bossuet, or Feuilly, Bahorel and Grantaire, had done to get the group in trouble while in public. They had been thrown out of bars, clubs and even a museum once. 

They both sat there until the rest of their drinks had gone cold. In the end, they had ended up splitting another slice of cake together. Enjolras had quite the sweet tooth and it was nice to know he felt comfortable indulging himself around Marius. Enjolras behaved so conservatively at work. When the lunch rush began to pour in, a little late since it was in fact a tea room, Enjolras suggested they give up their table for waiting customers. Marius couldn’t believe three hours had passed. 

As they stood outside, Marius rocking awkwardly back on his heels as Enjolras tugged gloves onto his hands. He noticed just how far they were from Enjolras’ apartment and realised the gentleman-ly thing to do. He looked down at the shorter male who looked about ready to bid farewell, “Did you walk here?” The blond looked taken aback by the question. “Yes, well. I’m a nightmare in the kitchen without Ferre.” To supervise and put out fires. 

“I can walk you back since I didn’t get to last night?” Marius ducked his head, slightly embarrassed at his own words. “You know, to be courteous and all.” Enjolras dragged his lower lip through his teeth, “No, that’s okay. It’s pretty far.” Marius wondered how many similar cafes were between here and his home. There had to be plenty, they were in Paris after all. “Do you like this place too? I’ve been coming a lot since Courf told me about it--” 

“Well,” At this moment Enjolras decided the pavement at his feet was intriguing, “I actually walked over hoping to catch you.” The confession made the breath hitch in Marius’ throat. He felt his cheeks stain red. 

Enjolras looked up, finally brave enough to make eye contact and shifted to his toes. Marius closed the marginal gap between them and their lips sealed in a featherlight kiss. Finally.

They broke apart shortly after. Enjolras flashed a bashful smile before turning on his heels and heading in the other direction. Marius was stunned into silence, wondering if that had truly just happened. 

He still didn’t have Enjolras’ number.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THEY SMOOCHED


	14. Latte

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marius is a dweeb and Grantaire is a jerk.

Monday couldn’t come soon enough. 

Sure, Marius could easily text Courfeyrac and ask for Enjolras’ number. He would never live the interrogation that would surely follow but at least he would have it. Then what would he say to Enjolras? He had literally been kissed and then abandoned on the snowy sidewalk. Perhaps the blond regretted it. Marius pushed thoughts of doubt out of his head. The smile that Enjolras gave him was the only assurance he had but it would have to do for the rest of the weekend. He didn’t want to sound too desperate. 

The morning before work, Marius took an extra long shower. He had unfortunately had some inappropriate dreams about a particularly adorable and flexible dancer. Marius felt shamed about the things he wanted to do with those pink lips. Even though it was just his subconscious misbehaving he didn’t know how he would look Enjolras in the eyes today. 

Despite his worried disposition, he left his apartment early enough to pick up coffee on the way over. He didn’t know exactly what Enjolras would like but he saw something called a sugar cookie latte and assumed that was a safe bet. 

Marius nudged the door open with his hip, heart skipping a bet when he heard someone inside. His shoulders dropped a bit when he noticed it was Combeferre stretching Grantaire on the floor. He tried not to stare at their hands intertwined. “He’s not here yet,” Grantaire commented with a scoff. Marius must have looked painfully obvious holding two extra large coffee cups. The redhead felt a blush creep across his cheeks and warm his chest. What a day to wear a v-neck. 

This was the second time Marius has attempted to woo Enjolras over with this lame move And this was the second time Grantaire called him out on it. 

Ferre offered the choreographer a small mercy, “He’s in a fitting right now. He’ll be back in a minute.”

Marius cracked a small smile while he moved to put his bag down. He tried not to think about how covered in glitter Jehan was when he came back from his fitting last Thursday. “Grantaire, you’re here early.” He tried a small indiscretion to show he wouldn’t be so easily intimidated. R stood, a hand on his hip, “Yes. Figured we could get some practice in before you start undressing Enjolras with your eyes.” 

While they danced, Marius realised just how short Grantaire was. He looked so much taller next to Enjolras. A small layer of sweat was shining on the dark haired man’s temple as he dipped Marius back, “Used to playing the submissive?” Marius nearly fell backwards. Ferre snorted. 

Feuilly stepped into the room just in time to break the growing uncomfortable silence, “Hey, Ferre. Can you come in here? Enjolras wants you to unlace his corset.” Ferre excused himself as he left the dance floor, shouting a quick, “Be nice, babe,” over his shoulder as he left Marius defenseless. 

Marius was still standing there rigid. The principal dancer looked at him with an eyebrow raised. Laughing, Marius stretched his arm over his head, “Sorry, just trying to figure out how they expect him to dance in a corset.” He offered his hand out to Grantaire, “Can you continue? Or do you want me to stretch your hamstrings out again?” R lead them to sit on the floor, “It’s not for the performance. Just the promo photos.” The sat casually and their pointe shoes met in the middle. Marius pulled Grantaire forward and tried to not thing about Enjolras being dressed in the other room. His mind was certainly in the gutter today and it was horrifying to him. 

Courfeyrac and Bahorel came in through the front door and Courf practically beamed when he saw Marius. He decided to tell him everything about his date with Jehan on Saturday night. Apparently, they had an amazing time at a trashy movie then topped it off with cheese fries and milkshakes. Marius told Courfeyrac to keep the rest of the story to himself when he started to narrate their late night activities.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> blaaah


	15. Nonchalant (or the opposite)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Marius and Enjolras agree to see where this goes.

“Hey.” 

“Hey.” 

Their lunch break finally offered Marius the chance to talk to Enjolras. He was in his usual spot, sitting on the stairs and munching on avocado toast. Enjolras had pulled on a pair of sweatpants to cover his physique. It was odd to always be lounging around in tights, not to mention cold. Marius watched his nostrils flare with a deep exhale as the blond pushed loose strands of hair behind his ears: 

“So about the other day, I wanted to apologise—“ 

“Can I have your number?” 

They both looked at each other. Enjolras let out a puff of laughter while a smile curled onto his lips, “Are you asking me out, Pontmercy?”

Marius stood his ground instead of looking for a rock to crawl under. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, thinking over his next words carefully. It would probably be awkward to date a co-worker but it may be worse to go on skirting around each other forever. He had definitely felt something the other night, and he wasn’t normally good at picking up on vibes. The blond was gorgeous, driven and compassionate to a fault. Marius knew he didn’t really deserve someone like that but it did seem he had their friends’ acceptance. “Well, I was. But what are you apologising for?” 

Enjolras set his water bottle down, “I was too forward. And I put you in an awkward spot, seeing as you had to work with me today.” He stretched his legs once before folding them beneath himself nonchalantly, “And I didn’t know how you would feel about it. So, I just wanted to apologise. In case I made you feel uncomfortable. Which now does not seem to be the case.” He grabbed a tattered moleskin out of his bag and ripped out a page before quickly scribbling something down, “So to answer your question, yes. Here’s my number.” Marius thought he would be blinded by the smile he was then on the receiving end of. 

He immediately shoved the paper into his pocket. God, he hoped Combeferre would approve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> babies are officially "not-dating" c:


	16. It's (Not) a Date

Combeferre nudged Enjolras with a socked foot, “Are you even listening?” 

The blond quickly looked up from his mobile. The pair were curled up on the couch watching the news and nursing their cup of coffee. It was the first Saturday in a long time the weather wasn’t entirely dreadful. Enjolras yawned, “Sorry, what were you saying?” The bespectacled male snorted, “I’m going over to help Grantaire to repaint his studio. If I left it up to him, he would half-ass one wall and call it aesthetic. Do you have any plans?” 

Enjolras leaned his head back over the edge of the couch, “Not really. I was thinking about going down to the printer and seeing if they could give us a bigger discount for when Feuilly finishes the new pamplets.” Ferre slipped off the couch, “So you really mean catching up on Orphan Black?” He slid into his sweatshirt while going to get another pot of coffee started, “Why don’t you ask Marius if he wants to play tourist today? He is still pretty new to Paris.” 

The principal dancer made a face. They /had/ been texting every waking moment since work ended on Monday. And since Marius had been the one to ask for his number, it was his turn to stop being the socially inept loser. “I don’t know. He’s probably busy.” 

Combeferre walked back into the room carrying Enjolras’ soy milk and his mobile, “Well, I’ve already texted him for you. So you should probably get ready.” 

[10:32] want to grab a coffee and walk around the MNAM?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *MNAM - Musée National d'Art Moderne - National Museum of Modern Art (Paris)


	17. First Date First Snog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Lots of chapter notes at the end since this is actually a real chapter!)

Marius arrived absurdly early. 

As soon as he read the text from Enjolras, he jumped into the shower. He typed out his reply while he was trying to pick out an appropriate outfit. He had waited in hopes of not sounding so ridiculously eager. He quickly stepped into his shoes and grabbed his messenger bag before shoving a granola bar into his pocket. Marius even decided to take a cab, worrying that delays on the tube could cause him to be late. 

Sitting on a bench outside of the museum entrance, the redhead realised Enjolras wouldn’t be arriving for another hour. He quickly got himself a coffee from an outdoor vendor to steady his hands. This would be their first official date and he wanted everything to go perfectly. Absently he checked his hair in the reflection of his phone. His one and only ex had once mentioned it was her favourite feature of his. He didn’t quite understand, since his red strays shot out in every direction and defied gravity. (However he definitely would like Enjolras to run his fingers through his hair. Or maybe even give it a playful tug.) 

He decided to pass the time by texting Courf which turned out to be a bit of a mistake. The brunette was beyond excitable and began asking for unnecessary details— but at least that was encouraging. Courferyac had been friends with Enjolras for years. If he was happy they were going on a date together, maybe that meant they really had a chance at being great. 

It turned out Marius did not have to wait as long as he expected. Enjolras waved from across the street before padding over happily. It gave the taller male a chance to appreciate his appearance. He was wearing a pair of grey wash jeans and a pink jumper over a black v-neck. He looked adorably casual with his converse. Enjolras had his hair pulled back in a ponytail and Marius noticed just how long his golden curls were. He had never seen it out of a messy bun. 

“Marius! Sorry, am I late?” Enjolras plopped down next to him on the bench, “Thanks for meeting me so last minute.” He flashed the redhead a dazzling smile and decided not to mention the text had really been from Combeferre. “So do you want to check out the museum or would you rather be a tourist somewhere else?” 

Free entry was always something that Marius was keen for. He hadn’t really been well off since living with his grandfather in secondary school. He would perpetually be exuding the broke college student aesthetic until he was working long enough to save a few pennies. 

It was a pleasant surprise that they walked through the exhibitions hand in hand. Marius was usually too embarrassed for public displays of affection, but Enjolras’ hand was warm and pleasant in his. They took their time admiring all of the art. Neither of them were particularly well-informed when it came to any of the artists, but it was nice to just enjoy everything at face value. Enjolras commented that is Grantaire was here, he would be spewing biographies about all of the pieces and know minute details about the individual artistic processes. It seemed to be the first compliment Enjolras ever paid Grantaire in Marius’ presence. That seemed like progress. 

After they queued for the James Turrell room, they found a place in the corner to sit and truly appreciate the light display. They whispered in hushed voices comments about other observers’ overzealous methods of inspection. They assumed it was the equivalent of obnoxiously sniffing and slurping expensive wine. Neither of them had many pretentious qualities despite their similar upbringing. 

The room morphed through a gorgeous array of pastels, and the pair decided they had successfully absorbed the ambiance of the room. They quietly stepped out and began to meander through the last floor of the museum. 

“I feel like we’re being judged by the people sitting down with sketchbooks.” Enjolras glanced over his shoulder, “But I don’t know how long I can spend looking at a white paper cutout of an octagon on the wall.” Marius breathed out a laugh, “Maybe they’re judging me for not even trying one lame museum pick-up line on you this entire time.” Enjolras felt his cheeks burn before turning away, “Oh my god. That’s even worse.” Marius offered an awkward grin, “Oh? You wouldn’t think it’s funny if I tried to say you were the prettiest thing in the room? Or that I think it’s weird no one has yelled at me for touching the art?” The blond nudged him in the ribs, “You are so lame.” He exhaled through his nose, “Yes, thank god you haven’t actually tried any of those lines.” 

The shorter ballet dancer shifted to his toes and gave Marius a featherlight kiss. The redhead leaned down to chase his lips for another, “Oh? But I think they might have worked.” 

The sweet moment was interrupted by a loud voice yelling in their direction. “I can’t believe it! Is that my sweet Apollo?” 

Marius looked over his shoulder, and noticed an overdressed man approaching them. He was wearing boots with a heel that clicked along the marble floor. He had pale skin but deep crimson lips and lashes an impossible shade darker than black. His hair was pushed to the side and curls framed his sharp cheekbones. The man’s frame was lithe while his legs seemed to stretch on forever. 

Enjolras immediately stiffened at the sight. Marius’ protectively placed an arm around his waist.

“Montparnasse.” The name rolled off his tongue with venom. Everything clicked for Marius. He recognised the name as one of the up and coming dancers at the Paris Opera Ballet— the company Enjolras was in before he came to the Musain. 

While the two stared down each other, Montparnasse looking amused while Enjolras resembled a scorned hedgehog, Marius noticed another blond approaching. 

“Did I interrupt your date, darling? My apologies.” Montparnase offered his hand to Mairus, “François. You must be the new choreographer of the Musain? It must be terrible to have to work with our dear Apollo and Grantaire.” In that moment an unrelated yet awful realisation struck Marius. He was truly a terrible date. 

Before he even had a chance to reply the other blond tugged on Montparnasse’s arm, “Let them be. Come on.” Marius noticed the unnamed forth dancer had a similar frame to Enjolras. 

“For once, Claquesous is right. You should get going. Now, if you’ll excuse us.” Enjolras offered the pair a false smile and pulled Marius out of the museum. 

After they were safely outside, and decidedly headed towards a frozen yogurt shop, Marius noted it was safe to ask, “So it just occurred to me that I don’t know your first name?” He could not believe he was going on a date with Enjolras and he honestly had no idea what his forename was since everyone at work referred to each other by their surnames. 

Enjolras looked down at his feet as he walked, “It’s not Apollo, if that’s what you’re wondering. Montparnasse is just a total prick.” He forcibly exhaled through his nose, “He means that as an insult. It’s actually Lucien.” Lucien Enjolras. God, it was utterly adorable. 

“Are you all right?” Marius stopped walking for a moment and reassuringly rubbed Enjolras’ back, “It didn’t bother me, if you’re embarrassed or whatever.” 

“I’ll be fine once I get something sweet.” 

Once they were settled in the frozen yogurt shop (Marius got vanilla, while Enjolras pilled cookie dough bites onto a cup of red velvet) the blond dancer began to open up. He explained that he and Montparnasse had been the leading dancers of their age group which meant that everyone knew eventually they would be the principals of the company. They always had a toxic relationship, Montparnasse pushing Enjolras out of his comfort zone at work, but it had gotten worse once they started dating. Enjolras still couldn’t believe he allowed that to happen. The dark haired male had worn Enjolras down until he somehow agreed and it seemed like there was no way out of it. Montparnasse became more controlling once they were sleeping together instead of their relationship morphing to be based in a partnership of equals. 

Enjolras left Montparnasse and the company to work with Combeferre at the Musain. Many thought it would be the end of his ballet career. It was controversial to leave the most prestigious organisation in France, but he needed to get out of the harmful environment. 

“That’s… Awful.” Marius glanced across the table with a sympathetic expression, “Sorry. I had no idea.” 

“A little too heavy conversation for our first date, sorry.” Enjolras offered an apologetic smile while ghosting his fingertips over Marius’ knuckles, “Hope that didn’t kill the mood too much?” 

Marius immediately realised he wanted to change the topic, “Not at all! I was thinking maybe we could go back to my place and start on that film list you gave me? I live nearby.” Now that the words were out of his mouth, he prayed that he hadn’t sounded too forward. 

The walk back consisted of debating what was the worst required reading during their academic careers. Surprisingly, Enjolras had taken more literature and history courses than Marius would have expected of a dance major. Lucien had a distinct distaste for anything written by Ayn Rand (especially Atlas Shrugged), Brave New World, and the Count of Monte Cristo. However he would defend defend Slaughterhouse 5, One Hundred Years of Solitude, The Tempest and Fahrenheit 451 to his grave. Marius responded with a rant about how disappointed Vladimir Nabokov would be about the sexualisation of Lolita. He never quite got over how his classmates completely missed the motifs that were being beaten over their heads. 

Just as they began to bond over their mutual love of The Stranger, it began to rain. They sprinted the last few blocks to Marius’ apartment, collapsing just inside the door in a heap of giggles. Kicking off his shoes and looking over to Enjolras, Marius offered a small smile, “Do you need a towel? And some tea.” Enjolras pushed his fingers through his wet hair, “That would be lovely. Thanks.” He shrugged out of his soaked sweater and set it down on the floor, “And maybe a sweatshirt?” Marius disappeared into his room in search of some clean towels. He was thankful his apartment was at least reasonably clean and ready for his date’s inspection. 

The pair eventually settled on Marius’ couch. Enjolras was curled up with a cup of earl grey in hand and warmed by Marius’ favourite sweatshirt; little did he know he would never be getting it back. Enjolras had pulled his hair up into a messy bun again so his wet locks wouldn’t stick to his forehead. They were both under a blanket and absently watching The Fifth Element. Marius found himself feeling incredibly pathetic as he inched his arm around Enjolras’ shoulders. He felt like a lovesick schoolboy trying the “yawn and stretch” move. Enjolras didn’t seem to notice his internal dismay and happily leaned against his chest with his head under the ginger’s chin. 

About thirty minutes into the film, the strife of Leeloo was completely forgotten. Marius had his back pressed against the couch with an eager Enjolras pressing into him. They were much less awkward with their mouths preoccupied. Marius was happily surprised with how dominant Enjolras had become, since he quite liked playing the submissive. He shivered in pleasure as the principal dancer’s hands slipped inside of his shirt. “Is that all right?” breathed the blond when he felt the other’s reaction. Marius offered an embarrassed grin, “More than all right.” His hands went down to take two fistfuls of Enjolras’ ass which pulled a delightful noise from the usually stoic Lucien. 

They were interrupted by an incredibly forceful banging on the front door. Enjolras was so startled he fell off of Marius and onto the floor. 

“Marius! Are you back from your date yet? Tell me everything!” Courf. Of course.

Marius offered an apologetic smile, “So I may have texted him earlier today?” The blond just snorted and went for his mug again, “Well, go let him in. Let’s get this over with.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1.) I have never been to the National Museum of Modern Art in Paris, so I pulled from other places I have been. The mentioned James Turrell room is at the Guggenheim in New York. 
> 
> 2.) Enjolras makes a joke about Richard Tuttle's paper cutout series which can be seen at the Tate Modern in London. 
> 
> 3.) My headcanon Claquesous is a twink replacement for Enjolras. I realize this is VERY different from Victor Hugo's vision. Imagine him as cute arm candy for Montparnasse in this fic. 
> 
> 4.) Enjolras despises Ayn Rand because of her capitalist propaganda and homophobia. 
> 
> 5.) I chose Montparnasse as Enjolras' past unhealthy relationship because I think you would all kill me if I picked Grantaire. If you think it's a weird ship, know that so do I. But I'm also glad I got to use him in this fic! He will be a major player later on. 
> 
> 6.) Courf later died of shame when he learned he was a cock-block. 
> 
> 7.) I am in desperate need of a beta reader! Message me if you're interested.
> 
> *EDIT* 
> 
> 8.) Montparnasse is named François after Francis in The Secret History. Shoutout to Bunny. 
> 
> 9.) Lucien Enjolras is completely taken from tumblr user feliciores 's headcanons.


	18. The Perks of Being a Dancer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marius and Enjolras act like high schoolers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***PLEASE NOTE THE RATING HAS GONE UP***

The work week began with its usual normalcy. The company was still a few weeks out from previews so they were not quite barreling into crunch time. Marius came to work with little expectation that he and Enjolras’ relationship had been drastically changed by the weekend. They had shared a quick kiss on the couch, and they had spent the past few days texting nonstop about utter nonsense, but not much had really been said on the matter. They were still trying to figure out what they wanted from it all. By Wednesday, everything was still comfortable. 

As soon as he set his bag down, Courfeyrac was thrusting an envelope into his hand. “Looks like the season’s starting early.” The redhead raised an eyebrow at the letterhead, “We’re invited to the Paris Ballet gala?” The dancer laughed, “Yeah, we have to go to a bunch of ridiculous black-tie events. Ferre says it’s PR or something.” 

The Paris Opera Ballet opening night gala was something Marius had always dreamed about. However, he felt a little trepidation after his encounter with Montparnasse. It might have been fun putting on a pretentious tux and sipping outrageously expensive champagne on someone else’s expense, but he knew Enjolras would dread going.

“Do we have one of these?” Marius asked while stuffing the still unopened envelope in his bag. Jehan perked up from where he was stretching on the floor, “Yes, we do! But ours is much more intriguing.” The choreographer felt nervous at the choice of words. 

Marius began stepping into his pointe shoes. He had on the schedule that he would be working primarily with Bahorel and Jehan today since they had a lovely pas de deux to rehearse. That didn’t stop him from wondering where Enjolras was since he was always the first one to arrive. 

The day passed easily. Jehan was easy to instruct as he had all of the grace and flexibility to master any routine. Bahorel could probably lift the poet with his pinky finger. The only disruptions came from Courf who was hovering around them with apparently nothing better to do. 

When their lunch break came, the trio asked if Marius wanted to noodle bowels from a cheap chain restaurant around the corner. He agreed but decided this was a good time to ask where Combeferre, Enjolras and Grantaire were. 

Jehan shimmied into his oversized sweater, “Don’t you remember? They’re at their photoshoot.” He unabashedly slipped one hand into Courf’s back pocket, “They’re meeting us for lunch though.” And with that, Marius’ mind was made up. 

The small group was joined by Joly and Bossuet before they walked over to the restaurant. On the way, Courf told obscenely ridiculous jokes and literally jabbed into Marius’ side. His style of conversing was overtly tactile. Courfeyrac practically floated between the dancers and gave each of them his utmost attention when it was their turn. Marius thought it was lovely that he was so earnest in his desire for friendship. The brunette was such a pure soul and possibly the only person Marius had ever met that was worthy of Jehan. They were an enviable pair. 

As they approached the restaurant, Joly sneezed. They quickly poured into warmth of central heating to escape the chill and took the largest table in the back corner. It seems they had beaten the others there. Marius sat on the end expectantly. He wanted to catch a moment with Enjolras whenever they decided to turn up. Just after their drinks were ordered, Bahorel was waving over their heads towards the door.

And they did make quite an entrance. Marius looked up and Grantaire caught his eye first. The dark haired male had his cheeks and nose highly contoured to accentuate masculine traits. His hair was slicked back and neat around his ears. He had colour smudged around his bottom lash line to create an avant-garde love interest. He looked other-wordly. 

But Enjolras had much more adorning his face. His curls were pulled into a side ponytail with elongated ringlets cascading down his shoulder. Translucent glitter peppered his cheekbones to create the illusion of fairy-like freckles. He had painted mauve lips that accented just how plush they were naturally. His eyelashes were boosted with a thick band of extensions. 

This change in appearance was only achieved with the help of the makeup department. They both sported extra large black sweatshirts over their frames. 

Combeferre came in behind them, the only of the trio who seemed in good spirits. He clasped a hand on Bahorel’s shoulder, “Hope we weren’t missed too much. Did you order yet?” 

If Marius thought Enjolras looked like an overstressed hedgehog the first time they met, they was really no comparison to how he looked down. The redhead slid out of the booth and Enjolras was immediately at his side and took both of his hands. It was his cute way of securing the other’s utmost attention for the rant that was about to unfurl. 

Without putting much thought into his action, Marius leaned down and sealed a kiss over Enjolras’ lips just as they were taking shape to speak. He pulled back with a sweet smile and looked down at the now pleasantly surprised blond. “Hey.” 

From the table, a whooping sound was just about to fill the air but Combeferre quickly silenced the cheeky party with a stern look. 

“Hey,” Enjolras breathed out, and with that the tension left his shoulders. He gave Marius’ hands a gentle squeeze, “Missed you.” 

Lunch passed pleasantly. Everyone was not quite too busy stuffing their faces with noodles to enjoy each other’s company. Marius realised what a loud bunch they made compared to everyone else in the restaurant. But the socially awkward dancer decided he didn’t mind. He really liked all of his new co-worker’s and the energy they brought with them. 

Getting back to work was certainly a chore. Courfeyrac whined incessantly but Jehan shoved him out of the booth anyway. The rest of the dancers followed suit. When the door opened and they stepped out back into the cold, Marius enjoyed the rush of fresh air. He felt warmth at his side before his fingers were laced with another’s. Enjolras was there, smiling up at him. “I’m off for the rest of the day,” the blond started, “but I have to walk back to get my bag.” 

Marius had no idea what that implication was so he just smiled and nodded. As they walked back, they lagged behind the long legs of Bahorel and the jovial skip of Joly and Bossuet. Marius kept glancing down at Enjolras as he revelled in the feeling of having the principal dancer pressed against his side. 

Just as Combeferre unlocked the door, Enjolras was grabbing Marius’ wrist and pulling him inside. He was lead up the stairs away from the rest of the group and away from the dance floor. The redhead quirked an eyebrow, “Where exactly are we going?” Enjolras looked over his shoulder once, “Somewhere close so I don’t lose my nerve.” 

Looking up, Marius noticed they were headed towards the costume closet. He felt colour rising in his cheeks. He leaned forward, catching Enjolras waist just as he opened the door. The choreographer all but shoved them both in and slammed the door behind them. Once inside, Enjolras made quick work of Marius’ shirt. While he was preoccupied with clothing, Marius lifted Enjolras and trapped him between his own body and the wall. The perks of being a dancer.

Enjolras gave a pleased shiver before wrapping his legs around Marius’ waist, “Hope this isn’t too forward?” He leaned over, peppering the exposed expanse of freckled skin with kisses. Marius could feel all the blood in his body heading south, “If it is, I’m still encouraging it.” 

The blond leaned forward to catch Marius’ mouth in a kiss that was all teeth and tongue. They had been skirting around each other for too long. The redhead responded aptly by trying to work Enjolras out of his pants. He didn’t get far, as their current position was trapping them above his knees. 

Marius groaned as he felt Enjolras begin to rut against him. The blushing blond was long gone and replaced by an Enjolras that was determined to get what he wanted. Enjolras wiggled against his grip, letting himself be placed back against the floor. He immediately dropped to his knees. The sight gave Marius whiplash. He had to place his hand over his mouth just to keep himself from letting out a noise of pure ecstasy. He didn’t think Enjolras could look any hotter than he normally did. But this, Enjolras eagerly working down the zipper of Marius’ jeans with his teeth, was too much. 

“Can’t let you go back to work like this, can we?” Enjolras mused teasingly as he nuzzled against the bulge in Marius’ boxers. Precome had already darkened a spot in the fabric. Marius thought he would die of embarrassment on the spot. 

His fingers drifted into Enjolras’ hair and he was rewarded with a wanton moan. With that little encouragement, the blond pulled Marius’ jeans down to pool at his ankles. He mouthed his cock straining against the fabric. Marius couldn’t take it anymore. He pulled his boxers down in an attempt to hurry the process. It had been a long time since he had done something like this, and he was worried he wouldn’t last long enough to get to the good stuff. 

Enjolras followed suit. He quickly pulled a condom out of his back pocket (he had nicked it from Courfeyrac’s stash earlier) and carefully slid it over Marius’ growing erection. 

Instead of teasing, he deftly took Marius down in one go swallowing down to the hilt. Marius cried out, his entire body arching before he was biting on the back of his hand. There was no way that just happened. 

The blond pulled off with an obscenely wet pop before circling his tongue around the head. He grinned, for a moment making eye contact with Marius through blond lashes. Closing his eyes, Enjolras eased a hand around the base while moving the tip in and out of his mouth. He wondered how long it would take until Marius was thrusting into the moist warmth. Enjolras flattened his tongue against the underside of Marius and swallowed down as much as he could again. The hand on his hair tightened. He felt encouraged. So, naturally, he pulled off. 

Enjolras wiped his bottom lip with his free hand and shot Marius a wicked smile, he was still pumping him with his other, “You like that?” Marius cried out with a half bitten off moan. “You can move you know.” He swallowed him down again and Marius’ didn’t need to be told twice. With both of his hands scrapping at Enjolras’ scalp, he moved his hips and groaned at how good it felt. He loved the feeling of Enjolras’ wet tongue, almost hitting the back of his throat, and how the blond’s moans were pushing him faster and faster towards his climax. 

Marius whined as he felt a heat growing in his stomach, “I’m almost there— Like so close—“ Enjolras pulled back, using his hand to stroke Marius to and past his orgasm. The redhead came with a shout and was shivering from overstimulation when Enjolras’ didn’t stop his attentions. After Enjolras finally decided he wrung the last drop of come out of Marius, he let him collapse into a heaping pile on the floor. Marius was beyond blissed out and couldn’t catch his breath. 

Enjolras leaned forward, pressing another row of nips and licks over Marius’ chest, “I’ve got quite a few ideas for next time.” Marius cupped his chin, tilting Enjolras’ face up and pressing a loving kiss to his lips. 

He internally was celebrating the prospect of a ‘next time.’


End file.
